DEAD AMERICA: THE SECOND WEEK
BOOK 8
EL PASO: PART THREE
BY DEREK SLATON
@ 2020
CHAPTER ONE
Day Zero +11
Detective Rogers sat in silence, peeling the curtain back slightly so he could peek outside without being seen. Two large black SUV’s pulled into the parking lot, one hauling a large trailer. Leon strolled out to meet them with a confident swagger.
“Don’t worry Detective, I have a good feeling about our new friend there,” Ethel said quietly as she set a mug of piping hot coffee on the desk beside Rogers.
He sighed and nodded before taking a sip. “Thanks, Ethel.” He offered a smile to the seventy-something woman with the kind eyes, hiding his grimace at his burning mouth. “I’m not worried about Leon, I know he can handle himself. I’m just worried about what the Cartel is going to throw at us next.”
She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and a reassuring pat. “When you need more coffee you holler, okay?”
“Thank you,” he replied with a nod, and peeked through the slit between the curtain and the window frame again.
A small army of Cartel members hopped out of the SUVs in seemingly pre-rehearsed unison.
Leon put out his hands, palms out. “Settle down there, boys,” he said, noting the amount of fingers on the triggers of their AK-47s. “Y’all are bringing us supplies today. Why would anybody here try anything?”
One of the guards spat out a string of Spanish, and Leon narrowed his eyes. He stalked forward until he was nose-to-nose with the Cartel member, who stared up at him in surprise.
He leaned down, and in perfect quiet Spanish, said, “If you are going to insult someone in secret, make sure they can’t understand you. Not everybody is going to be as friendly about it as I am.” He patted the guy on the cheek, and he jumped back, flushed and scowling.
“Get that trailer unhitched, now!” Rodriguez bellowed from the SUV, and stepped out to size up Leon.
The military officer wanted to smile when he spotted the second-ranked man in the whole Cartel, and their secret mole. But at the sight of Angel, the sleazy son of the Cartel leader, Leon steeled his expression so as not to give anything away.
“One day someone is going to teach you a lesson.” Angel sneered.
Leon rolled his eyes. “While I’m sure that day will come, I can guarantee it’s not going to be from a daddy’s boy like you.”
Angel growled, and lowered his chin, looking ready for a fight, but Rodriguez took a step forward, putting himself between the two men.
“Leon, you have a busy day ahead of you,” he said. “The boss was very pleased about your last find for him, and he’s very excited to see what you come up with next.”
“Because his generosity comes at a price.” Angel smacked the side of the trailer. “And there’s a lot of generosity in here.”
Leon bit his tongue, crossing his arms. He was used to his large, dark frame intimidating people, but these Cartel dicks were something else. He followed Rodriguez around to the back of the trailer, and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the sight of guns, ammo, fuel canisters, even a few motorcycles.
“Holy shit,” Leon breathed.
Rodriguez inclined his head to the stash. “This should get your group back up and running after your losses yesterday.”
“We did lose more than just equipment, you know,” Leon reminded him.
Angel scoffed. “I made sure to put a couple of candles in there you can light in their honor.”
“Right now, Tiago doesn’t feel comfortable providing you with men,” Rodriguez said quickly, before things could escalate. “He views this detail as a suicide mission and doesn’t want to waste manpower that can be put to better use in town.”
“So we’re expendable, huh?” Leon raised an eyebrow. “That takes me back…”
Rodriguez sighed. “Hopefully the guns and ammo in here will help you stave off death for another day. There are two dozen semi-automatic rifles, and about three thousand rounds of ammunition.”
The dark-skinned officer let out a low whistle. “Well that will almost clear the town out.”
“I will work to get you more, however you can make my job easier by finding things to appease Tiago.” Rodriguez shot him a knowing gaze.
Leon took a deep breath. “How long until we have to provide another offering?”
“I’ll be back this time tomorrow,” Angel declared.
“Tomorrow?!” Leon exclaimed. “It’s going to take us longer than that to even clear the town, let alone go through it.”
Angel sneered, leaning in to bare his teeth. “Then I suggest you take some chances,” he hissed. “Because while you may be off limits, there’s nothing stopping me from making you watch as I cut one of the residents here from ear to fucking ear. So unless you want a show, I suggest you do as you’re told.”
Leon’s eyes flashed with anger, his blood boiling, but he took a step back, knowing lashing out wouldn’t get them anywhere. The slimy kid grinned smugly and headed back to the passenger’s side of his SUV. The guards followed suit, disappearing into the vehicle.
“Give our mutual friend my best,” Rodriguez said quietly, his back turned to his comrades. “And my apologies for… you know.”
Leon gave an imperceptible nod. “We all appreciate what you’re doing for us. We won’t let you down.”
They shook hands and parted ways, the two SUVs pulling out and leaving the jam-packed trailer behind. Rogers approached as the vehicles disappeared in the dust, holding out a styrofoam cup of coffee.
“How bad is it?” he asked.
Leon pursed his lips. “We have twenty-four hours to find something.”
“Nothing like making it easy on us, huh?” Rogers asked, shaking his head.
His companion took a sip of coffee and recoiled at how hot it was. “Well, the good news is, I think this coffee will still be hot when they come back tomorrow.”
“Yeah, Ethel has the coffee set on flesh-searing today,” the Detective agreed.
Leon shrugged as he blew on the steaming brew. “Could be worse. We could be out.”
“You know that level of optimism is going to grow old pretty quick, don’t you?” Rogers accused.
Leon grinned. “Only if we do.”
They shared a chuckle and toasted their face-melting cups of coffee.
“We’ve got fifteen minutes before the scouts are due,” Rogers said as he looked at his watch. “Wanna go check on the night guards with me? Or do you need to get set up?”
“Nah, I was up early today,” Leon replied. “The satellite passed over just after dawn, so I got us a plan. Given our bullshit timetable we’re gonna have to improvise a bit, however.”
The Detective let out a deep sigh. “Welcome to life in the zombie apocalypse.” He led the way towards the bridge over the drainage ditch that separated them from the command center. “They at least bring us some fun goodies?”
“Yeah, we got a couple of mid-life crisis mobiles, and enough guns and ammo to take out most of the horde here in town,” Leon replied.
Rogers nodded thoughtfully. “Most, huh? Well, we’re better off than we were yesterday.”
“Not sure what you’re talking about, but I started my morning yesterday living the bachelor life.” Leon smiled slyly. “Now I’m stuck in a Cartel-themed Groundhog Day where we get to risk life and limb in order to get a Mexican drug cartel leader shit faced.”
The Detective shook his head. “Bet that space never showed up on your what’s gonna happ
en to me this year bingo card.”
“Neither was hanging out with a one-eared wise-ass, yet here I am.” Leon extended his thumb and poked himself in the chest, and the two men shared a dark chuckle.
Harry and Charlie stood guard, clutching makeshift broom-handle spears. They looked very focused, staring into town with tired, haggard faces.
Rogers clucked his tongue. “What do you say, boys?” he asked.
Harry startled, and they laughed when they realized who had been walking up behind them. “Morning, Detective.”
“Little jumpy today, aren’t you?” Leon asked as the man playfully clutched his chest.
“Can you blame him with all the Cartel stuff last night?” Charlie piped up.
The dark-skinned man shook his head. “Can’t say that I do.”
“Y’all have a busy night?” Rogers asked.
“Had a couple of stragglers early on, but it’s been quiet after that,” Harry said.
Charlie’s eyes lit up with hope. “I’m starting to think there ain’t that many of them hiding back there.”
“There’s more than a handful out there, boys, so you keep watch,” Leon warned. He hadn’t shared his satellite imagery knowledge with the general folks, not wanting to scare them, but they had a feeling that he knew what he was talking about.
“You boys keep up the good work,” Rogers declared. “Next shift should be in shortly. So y’all get some good rest.”
Charlie nodded. “Thank you, we will, Detective.”
The duo turned to head off, but Harry put out a hand. “Hey, Detective?”
“What’s that?” Rogers asked.
“We were real sorry to hear about Jay and Malcolm,” the older man lowered his gaze. “Can you please pass our thoughts and prayers on to their families? We weren’t really sure who their families are, but we didn’t want to bother them in their time of grief anyway.”
“I’ll take care of it, Harry,” the Detective promised. “They’ll be touched by the gesture.”
The two guards nodded and turned back towards the town, standing straight with their spears.
“You all right, Rog?” Leon asked once they were out of earshot.
The Detective startled. “Huh? Oh yeah, I’m good. Just got caught thinking.”
“Be careful, don’t want to overheat that brain of yours,” Leon joked, hoping to diffuse the tension.
It didn’t work, and Rogers shook his head. “No. It’s just… I’m not even sure if they had any family that was left alive, at least here in town. Outside of Trenton and Reed, I don’t even think anybody else knew them at all. I mean I sure didn’t—or not well, at any rate. I just knew them as scouts who could get shit done. Hell, I feel a little guilty about my first reaction to their deaths being where the fuck am I going to find another scout?”
“You don’t have anything to feel guilty about, Rogers,” Leon insisted, tugging on the Detective’s arm to stop him. “Truth is, we’re at war right now, and shit needs to get done. You know, my Uncle was in Vietnam. When I enlisted, he finally opened up to me about his time there. Not sure if it was to scare me about the colossal fuckup I just committed or if it was to get my head straight for what I was about to face.
“Regardless, he shared a lot of stories about his time in the field, but something he told me hit me hard and it resonates with what you're feeling. He told me that when he was in the rank and file he would spend each night mourning the deaths of people in his squad. Kept a diary with him and would jot down his memories of each man who fell in battle. I guess it was his way of keeping their spirit alive. Shortly after he started his third tour, his C.O. bit it in a night club bombing, so my Uncle got promoted. A week later, two of the best mine detectors in his unit fucked up while marking a mine field. My Uncle took out his notebook and started to write their names, but after staring at it for a few moments he put it down and started looking over the rest of his unit to figure out who was best suited to take over their spot.
“He didn't have time to mourn, because if he didn't find their replacements quickly, more lives would be lost. That's where you're at right now. You don't have the luxury to mourn—you have to focus on replacing their skills or else more people will lose their lives. So don't you ever feel guilty about thinking that again.”
Rogers stared at him for a time, letting the words sink in. “Thank you, friend,” he finally said. “I needed that.”
“Any time, Rog,” Leon replied, and offered a smile. He clapped him on the shoulder and started walking again. “Now come on, we gotta go figure out how we’re getting out of this one.”
CHAPTER TWO
Detective Rogers led Leon into the command center to find three twenty somethings hanging around his desk drinking coffee. Trenton and Reed looked like they were fresh from a fraternity that would make a young lady guard her beer. Clara, the young lady with them, was fit and determined-looking enough that she wouldn’t be duped by such things.
“Mornin’ boss,” Trenton greeted, muscles rippling beneath his polo shirt as he leaned against the desk. “What kind of shitshow you have for us today?”
Rogers smiled at Ethel as she brought two cups of coffee for him and Leon, and then set his down to cool this time. “Do you really want to know?” he asked the younger man.
“Probably not, but I’m up this early so might as well do something with the day,” Trenton admitted.
“Oh, you gonna do something, all right,” Leon replied, and sat down at his desk. He powered on the monitor as everyone gathered around the flickering screen. When it settled, it showed a satellite view of Fabens.
“So, to catch you all up, we had a visit from our unfriendly neighbors this morning with the demand to come up with something today to satisfy their boss,” Rogers began.
Leon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, apparently El Guapo enjoys his highs.”
“Does this mean we’re headed back to Van Horn?” Reed asked, crossing his arms.
“Wouldn’t be much of a point,” Clara replied. “I took the only top shelf stuff they had in the store. We need to go someplace new.”
Trenton shook his head. “Problem is the only two places within range are Fort Davis and Fort Stockton. The former of which isn’t big enough to have high dollar stuff, and the latter of which however might be worth a look.”
“Nah, we need to stay as far away from Fort Stockton as humanly possible,” Leon countered.
Reed’s brow furrowed. “Why? It’s the size of Fabens.” He pointed to it on the screen. “I mean, it’s a risk but it’s doable if we’re careful.”
“Pre-apocalypse, it may have been the size of Fabens,” Leon explained, “but one of the last things I heard before abandoning my official duties was that the National Guard leaders in Odessa and Midland were telling civilians to get out of town while they could and that Fort Stockton was safe. Only the dumbass didn’t think to warn them that anybody with A-type blood was already infected.” He pursed his lips and paused. “Didn’t take long for it to turn into a bloodbath. Based on what I could tell off the satellite, there may be thirty, forty thousand of those fuckers there.”
Trenton’s eyes widened. “Fucking hell man, I mean we’re good, but come on.”
“That’s why in my professional opinion, our best bet is going to be here in Fabens,” Leon concluded.
Trenton ran a hand through his sandy hair. “We thought about that, but our resident Ethel here said there weren’t any liquor stores in town. It’s no good.”
Leon punched a few keys and zoomed in on Fabens, focusing on the western edge of town. “This is the local hospital,” he said as he brought it right up close to a two-story building surrounded by a few hundred zombies. “I propose we venture in there and get some of the high grade pharmaceuticals and deliver as an offering. Some of those opioids will get you good and fucked up, which may be enough for El Guapo to grant us a few more days before next delivery.”
Reed sighed. “Guess it would be too much to hope for him
to overdose on them, right?”
“While I’d prefer to put a round through his head from a thousand yards,” Leon admitted, “I wouldn’t complain about that happening.”
Trenton raised his hand. “Not meaning to dim y’alls hopes or nothing, but there seems to be a small army of zombies standing between us and the hospital entrance. Do we even have enough bullets to cut ‘em down?”
“Yeah…” Leon began to zoom out. “So here’s the thing about that. Y’all aren’t going to be able to do too much gunplay.” He moved over to two schools that shared a sports field. There was a veritable sea of ghouls surrounding the two giant buildings.
“Remind me to tell the guards to stay extra quiet on duty,” Rogers breathed.
Clara stared at the screen and rubbed her forehead. “It looks like thousands of them.”
“Best guess is around four thousand,” Leon confirmed. “Maybe five. Hard to tell really, but it’s certainly enough to overwhelm any defense we could muster, and especially overwhelm any raiding party.”
Reed squinted and leaned forward. “What the hell is holding them there?” he asked. “Not like them to congregate without a reason.”
“Could be survivors in the school,” Clara suggested.
He laced his fingers behind his head, letting out a low whistle. “If there are, shouldn’t we be figuring out a way to get them out of there?”
“First things first, we have to satisfy the Cartel before worrying about anything else,” Rogers corrected.
Trenton threw his hands up. “How in the hell are we taking out a few hundred of these things without firing a shot?”
Leon swiveled in his chair. “Hey, Ethel? Can I borrow you for a minute, sweetie?”
“Do you need a refill, hon?” the older woman asked.
He grabbed his mug and checked it, taking the last swig. “Really just need your expertise, but I won’t turn down another cup.”
She grabbed the pot and headed over as he zoomed in on a row of metal buildings down the street from the hospital.
“Ethel, you’ve lived here for quite a while, haven’t you?” Leon asked, rolling his chair back a bit so she could see.
Dead America The Second Week (Book 8): Dead America: El Paso Part 3 Page 1
